


Friends with a Monster

by akki_the_immortal



Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: Angst, Auri wrote it better, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Blood, Other, Set during Lodestar, Should have expected it though, The Pyren Brothers AU, Way worse than I expected it to be, Yeah no shit Akki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28415295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akki_the_immortal/pseuds/akki_the_immortal
Summary: "The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places."- Ernest Hemingway
Relationships: Councillor Bronte & Fintan Pyren
Comments: 20
Kudos: 16





	Friends with a Monster

**Author's Note:**

> I believe @TheDarkChocolateLord came up with the idea, followed by @SemperAeternumQue writing an amazing fic called "as it all falls down around us", and then @TheDarkChocolateLord writing a fic called "How do you fight like you need it to survive?". So basically I'm a copycat. Enjoy!
> 
> (Thank you to @linhamon-roll for the beta read!)

Blood dripped onto the cold tiles.

It might have been mine.

It might be someone else's.

If it was mine, I couldn't feel a wound.

I couldn't even think.

_He—_

_How—_

Neither of those were the question.

_Why?_

Dust fell around me, the ground shaking.

_I need to get out of here._

I could feel the floor falling behind me, but I forced myself to speed up.

Lights flicked off the stone walls, casting cold blue shadows off the crumbling walls.

_Balefire._

My lips turned into a grim smile.

_He does like to leave his mark, doesn't he?_

I sprinted down the dusty hall, narrowing my eyes as clouds of debris fell around me. Even through the haze, I could see a door. Putting in a final burst of speed, I grabbed the handle and pulled.

Locked.

I slammed my body against the cold surface, my arm throbbing where it touched the metal.

_This isn't working._

_I need..._

My thoughts trickled off as I noticed the sprawled body in the shadows. Large chunks of debris were scattered around the still form, blood pooling underneath the gray stones.

_That's why I didn't notice it. It's a goblin. Blended in rather well in the darkness._

I approached the corpse, lifting it's bulky head. Blood ran down my fingers as I tilted it further, examining the large gash across its face. Buckles glittered in the shifting light of the balefire, the blue light refracting off the gleaming blades.

I gently slipped it’s eyes closed, grabbing a blade and standing, my cloak ripping on the sharp stones. Dark blood streaked down the front of my robe, staining the Council’s seal.

_How poetic._

_Blood always does seem to stain the Council._

My eyes dropped down, examining the weapon in my hands. It was a gorgeous one, a beautiful gold hilt imprinted with wild vines and animals. Two glittering rubies were set into the eyes of a snake, casting a soft red glow over the gold. The blade itself was a dark steel, verging on black. It fit in my hand beautifully.

_Terribly sorry to whoever made this._

I slammed it into the crack, twisting as much as the space would allow. A quiet scraping noise resonated through the dark hall. The floor shook beneath my feet, dark cracks shooting through the ground. I could feel the door start to give way, the lock snapping. It swung open without a noise as I sprinted through, narrowly avoiding the falling debris.

And I stopped dead.

Instinctively I clutched the blade tighter, twisting it in my hand. He did the same. Even now we mirrored each other, light and dark, good and evil.

I don’t think either of us knew which side we were on.

“Brother.”

“Fintan.”

His sky blue eyes narrowed as he raised his hand, snapping his flames to life. They danced around us, the heat a sudden change from the stinging metal in my hand. “Don’t be like that, Bronte. I’m really not the evil one here.” He said with a coy expression on his face. I could tell it was fake.

I could feel my inferno of emotions begging to set fire to the world, like he had before me. I shook with rage, desperately trying to control my power. “Don’t be like that? This isn’t a game Fintan.”

“Of course it is. This is a game. I took my turn.” He hissed. I could see his jaw clenching as he forced a cold smile. “Now it’s time for you to make yours.”

“What—”

“Oh please, Bronte. This is all just a wonderful little game of chess. We’re the kings, and we have our pawns, and our bishops. This is just one move after another.” He titled his blade towards me, his smile cold, but his eyes blank. “And you have to be ruthless in chess. Otherwise you can’t win.”

My lips curled into a smile that I knew too well. A cold, emotionless smile, that was never meant for him. How times change. “I always beat you at chess.”

His cool expression faltered as the flames roared higher. “You did. But I’ve been practicing.”

The castle shook with another tremor, more and more chunks falling, shattering against the already shattered floor. Fintan’s gaze flickered as the stone crashed into the ground. I took a deep breath—wishing that it didn’t smell like smoke—and lunged. 

I crashed into him, rolling over and pinning him to the hard rock. Twisting my arm, I grabbed his knife, my own forgotten in the flaming circle. I swung it in a smooth arc, aiming the blade at his exposed neck.

It stopped an inch from his skin.

* * *

Oralie hissed in pain, stumbling further down the hall. She gripped her heels tightly in her hand, her bare feet hitting the ground in full stride.

“This way, Councillor.”

She offered him a weak smile, following him down the hall. Stones cut into her feet, but she kept moving, grabbing onto the arm of the elf beside her. Small balefire torches flickered along the hallway, bathing it in an eerie glow. Shadows danced over every crevice, lengthening and shifting. Debris lay scattered across the marble floor.

Oralie whipped around as more of the ceiling crashed down. She yanked Forkle out of the way as the stone shattered against the ground. The floor trembled, a crack widening at their feet.

“Oralie?”

“Yes?”

“Run.”

They sprinted down the narrow hall, dodging more of the falling ceiling. Oralie growled, her ankle throbbing. Small cuts covered her feet. A scream tore through her throat as the floor dropped away under them, sending them crashing down. She dragged herself to her feet, stumbling back.

A body lay strewn where Oralie had fallen. It was twisted, half hidden in shadows, but it was definitely dead. She dropped beside the corpse, nearly bursting into tears of relief.

“It’s a goblin.” She breathed, whispering the phrase over and over. “It’s not him. It’s not her.”

Oralie leaned back, looking at the gray-skinned creature. It took her a second to realize the small fabric snagged in the stones. She picked at it. It was silky silver, cold to the touch, and far too recognizable.

“He—at least I think it’s a he—is missing weapons.”

“What?”

“Look.” Forkle bent down, showing her the straps. “There are multiple sheaths, but one is empty. Someone took something. A knife, by the looks of it.”

They both looked down the hall. To their left, the floor had fallen away, but at the end of the corridor there was a door. It was metal, and it looked like it had been wrenched open. Light flickered along the steel. To their right, an open door leading to a darkened room.

“We can levitate across.” Oralie offered. She hated fire, but the prospect of light was far too tempting. She rubbed the smooth cloth between her fingers, watching the other elf intently. Her hand brushed his shoulder, his emotions vibrating around her, dense and heavy, like wood. She felt a slight shift, the vibrating turning into a brittle, but flowing feeling.

He shook his head, pulling the two of them to their feet, grabbing a balefire torch. His brows raised, clearly noticing how Oralie’s eyes narrowed at the blue flames. “No. Let’s conserve our energy. And don’t think I didn’t notice your reading.” He added with a small smile. “Let’s go.”

They stumbled down the hall, weaving around the broken stones, all while Oralie rubbed the silver fabric in her hand. She could feel her heart pounding, pulsing in unison with her throbbing foot. The door was open to an inky blackness. 

It was dark. 

Too dark. 

Forkle lifted the torch, stepping through. Oralie followed. The light flickered, illuminating gorgeous tables, surrounded by twisting jeweled trees and balustrades. The roof was shimmering with thousands of flecks of silver and gold. It looked like the night sky.

Oralie dragged herself over to one of the tables, inspecting the series of cuts in her pale skin. Her blood dripped down and onto the carpeted floor. She could feel the other elf’s gaze on her as she prodded the wounds.

“Here.” He ripped off a piece of his tunic, handing her the scrap. “Wrap that around your foot.”

It was scratchy and rough, but it stopped the bleeding. Her hands trembled as she studied the blood on her hands. Too much blood. She could feel her stomach turn as the floor shook again.

“We need to get out of here.”

Forkle nodded beside her, holding out a hand. “Lets go. There’s an exit to the back.”

They turned around, skirting around the fallen tables and debris. She could feel small stones try and poke through the blood soaked cloth. And then she stopped cold.

A far-too-familiar elf stood slouched against the door, with a far-too-familiar sword in his hand. His teeth gleamed in the darkness, his eyes burning with hatred, but his tone was far-too-casual as he said “I’ve been meaning to have a little chat, _Councillor._ ”

Forkle blocked her view as he stepped in front of her, gently pushing Oralie back. She spun around, backpedaling as two other figures blocked the doorway. Blue light filtered in behind them.

“Relax, old man. I’m just here for my _dearest friend_ Oralie.” Gethen hissed, his hand tightening on the hilt.

“That's what I’m afraid of.” He growled back. She could feel the waves of anger radiating off him, sharp and rough.

Gethen smirked, gliding forwards. His eyes bored into her skull, his gaze flickering slightly as dust fell around them. “Oh, you _should_ be.”

* * *

_Kill him._

_I can’t._

_A real fighter would._

_Then I’m not a real fighter._

_You were born a killer._

_I can’t!_

_Worthless._

_He’s my brother._

_He’s your enemy._

_No he’s not._

My arm shook as I pulled the blade back, dragging Fintan to his feet. He looked shocked, but didn’t struggle. He just looked at me. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You thought I was going to kill you?”

“Maybe not kill, but something.” His eyes dropped to the ground. “You looked like dad.” He forced another smile.

I smiled weakly. “Same eyes.”

“Yeah.” His eyes shot up to the ceiling as dust rained down. “We need to get out of here.” He tried to tug me back, but I held my ground. “Bronte, now's not the time to be stubborn. We need to—”

“No. Stop.” I could feel my temper click back as I stared at him. “What the _fuck_ Fintan. _Why_ the fuck.”

“Bronte we need to—”

“Answer the question!”

“Bronte—”

“Fintan.” I could see the fear flickering in his eyes. “Answer the fucking question.”

His jaw set, but he looked unsure as more dust fell around us. “Fine. I did it because we need to change the world Bronte. We need change. Now. The Black Swan does nothing. The Council does nothing. Even _humans_ progress more than we do. We convince ourselves that we are great, we convince ourselves that we are _good_. We’re not. We have more blood on our hands than anyone. We need change.” I could see the anger sparking in his eyes. “That’s why I did it. To change our world.”

“At the cost of lives!”

“People die everyday.”

I could feel my anger spiking as I dug my hands into my ribs. I could feel my knees shaking, emotions pounding through my brain. I gritted my teeth, smothering every thought. “Let's just get out of here.”

He nodded, pulling me away as more dust rained down.

We ran down the hall, twisting through the narrow corridors.

_He’s not who you grew up with._

_He’s different._

_No—_

_He’s not._

_My brother—_

_Gone._

_No, he’s not._

_He’s still Fintan_.

Light gleamed ahead, not the foreboding blue of balefire, but golden and warm.

We stumbled into the light of the dying day, panting for breath. My head was pounding, my vision blurry, my stomach turning. I spun around, walking back to the crumbling castle.

“Bronte. We’re safe.”

“Oralie—”

“She’s probably sa…” He trailed off, his gaze focused on something in the distance. He seemed to have forgotten I was there. I slipped further away, out of sight as my eyes raked over the horizon.

I could feel my blood turned cold as I noticed three figures striding towards Fintan. Black cloaks whipped behind them in the sea wind. 

Gethen’s eyes gleamed with madness as he stalked closer to my brother. He smirked and dipped his head.

“Fintan.”

“Gethen. Where’s Brant?” He hissed back.

“Not now.” He held up an far-too-familiar object.

I stilled, my mind numb.

The Councillor’s circlet dangled in the blond elf’s fingers, gleaming silver. It looked broken and bent. The soft pink tourmalines casted pink rays over their black robes. 

Dark blood dripped off the steel, staining the white sand.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

How does one kill a monster?

See, I was always told that monsters can’t be killed.

My father told me that.

I should have known he would lie.

He did that a lot.

But monsters can be killed.

It made sense.

Because elves are monsters.

And we can be killed. 

I should know.

I’ve watched far too many elves die.

I’ve been to far too many plantings,

And buried far too many friends.

It seems I’ll bury another.

A friend, and an enemy.

The word tastes so weird on my tongue.

But that’s what my brother was.

And enemy.

A monster.

But if he’s a monster,

What does that make me?

I’ll tell you.

Something much worse.


End file.
